In the Eyes of the Strongbow
by RedWillowPictures
Summary: The story of Túrin through the eyes of Beleg Strongbow. One-shot, T for character death.


**In the Eyes of the Strongbow**

By Silme Quesse

**Main Characters:** Beleg C., Túrin

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, nor places. All right belong to Tolkein, and Tolkein only.

* * *

Finally, I had the motivation to write a new story. That took a while.

This will be a one shot, but I promise you that I will have a new story up in a week or two!

-Silme

* * *

I remember everything, my friend.

I found you in the woods, a mere boy, who looked so much like your parents. I guided you safely to the kingdom, and for a great many years you were raised in the woods. I helped to teach you the arts of crafting, swordplay and archery, and comforted you when you were broken. I watched you grow every day,stronger, and taller, your skills ever improving.

When you joined the marches, I gladly became your companion in arms, aiming to keep you safe, though we saved each other quite frequently. I was proud to fight beside you as a brother and friend. Then, that fool of an Elf insulted your family, and sadly, perished in the river after you chased him through the forest. If I had been there at the time, I would have supported you. But alas, I was busy fending off orcs at the marches.

When I learned of your flight from Doriath, I rushed back from the marches, only stopping on my journey to bring the maiden Nellas to the halls of Thingol. She played a major role in your pardoning, much less than my part. I volunteered to search for you, and upon receiving permission from King Thingol, I did just that.

I hunted for you for months on end, never tiring, hoping for a sign of your presence. Worry for your safety ever clouded my judgement, and often I would go days without sleep, searching for news of you.

How my heart leaped when I heard news of you. That name you gave yourself did not fool me for a moment. Deep in my heart, I knew it was you, yet I could not believe that you had stooped as low as to work with outlaws. And so once more, I set out.

Every day I drew closer to your band, yet whenever I reached your campsites, there was nothing left but the ashes of an old fire. Eventually I journeyed alone, for my companions grew weary. My devotion to you did not waver, and so I continued, each day finding fresher ashes and those small imprints that were made as your men covered their tracks. If not for my years of practice in tracking, I would have been sent off course months before. You taught those men well.

One night, I could see the faint flicker of a fire. Hope flickered in my chest, and I felt only happiness and love for you, my best friend. I forced myself to approach your camp calmly, and in case I was not recognized, I held my palms up in a gesture of peace. Yet, when I entered the clearing... You were not there.

When the ropes were drawn around my arms, pinning them to my sides, anger surged in my blood, yet I forced myself to relax, before speaking to the outlaw who looked as if he were in charge. Yet my words only seemed to anger them, and they seemed to believe that I was a spy.

Oh, how wrong they were. I have forgiven them many times for it, but I know that deep inside of you, rage still seethes.

I was bound to a tree, still standing, my legs already tired from traveling so far and long. When I refused to answer their questions, they left me there, for two days and two nights, without food or water. Occasionally one man would aim a kick at me when I refused to speak, and all my body allowed me to do was glare at whoever did so, full of rage.

On the last night, when the ruffians gathered around me, ready to kill me cruelly with a red hot brand, for although I could not keep my eyes open, I felt the burning heat. My heart soared when I sensed a familiar presence in the trees. When the brand was brought to my face, you burst forth from the shadows, shoving your way past the group of outlaws to reach me. You cut my bonds with shaking hands, and when I fell into your arms, I felt your cool tears splash upon my face.

You tended me all night, and I healed quickly, thanks to your skills. I was surprised by your reaction to my news. I believed you would be happy, hearing that you could once more return to your home. But your natural human pride got in the way, and you refused to return with me.

We argued repeatedly, and it filled me with pain when I had to leave without you. Yet, I knew I had to return to you someday, and when I was told where you were going, I decided.

I spent only a few days back in Doriath, and only to gain permission to once again return to you. When I was gifted with lembas, I knew that you would refuse it the moment you saw it. But your group would most likely not, so thanking my queen, I accepted the gift, and I was also gifted with any sword I chose. I took up the great sword, ignoring the warning of the Lady, and set out to find you once more.

I took with me a great pack, in which was carried supplies to aid you and your outlaws. Once more, I started the long journey, and upon discovering your camp, I decided to have a little fun. I appeared beside the fire without a word, causing many of your men to leap up, shouting in surprise. Laughing, I drew back my hood, revealing my face to you. We embraced for a short time, and a few minutes later we sat down, and began conversing beside the fire, speaking in quiet tones.

I gave you the Dragon Helm, and you took it, gazing upon it with wonder. And although you refused to return once more, I followed my heart and stayed beside you, though my mind told me not to.

For many a year we challenged the orcs that roamed this land, defeating them every time, and often all we hand to do was give a shout, and the vile creatures would flee. The land we resided in became known as the Land of Bow and Helm, and we guarded it valiantly from darkness.

Often I would feel the hate filled gaze of the dwarf boring into me, and although hatred for him also filled me, my loyalty to you held me from challenging the Petty Dwarf. I suspected him of plotting something, though I did not know the full extent of it until it was too late.

The orcs of Morgoth came upon us quickly, and many men were slain. You and I led the remaining men up the stairs, and we formed a circle, almost all of the outlaws sacrificing their lives. I was injured badly, and I was fighting desperately now, for I had lost sight of you. Pain erupted in my side when an orc blade slashed through my tunic and flesh. In my weakness, I stumbled, and a thick net was cast over me and nailed to the ground, where I was forced to lay motionless in my own blood as, unknown to me, you were carried away in a similar net.

Suddenly I heard cruel, mocking laughter, and opening my eyes I saw the dwarf above me, gloating with a wicked blade in his hands. I fought my senses, trying to move, but before I could react, Andróg seized a sword and thrust it at Mîm, who fled quickly.

Sadly, I could not save the loyal archer, and when he breathed his last, I hoped that he was on his way the the Halls of Mandos.

Desperately I searched for your body, to bury it and give you the respect you truly deserve. When I could not find, I knew you had not perished, and I was glad. So once more, after I was healed of my wound, I set off to find you, though much of my hope was now diminished. Along my journey, I came across a curious Elf, by the name of Gwindor, an escaped slave from the mines. I gave him some of the remaining lembas, and when I told him of my quest, he tried to talk me out of it. But I would never leave you to the hands of Morgoth, and I knew that you would do the same for me. And so reluctantly he journeyed with me.

On the last night, I saw the fires of the orcs and the wolf sentries gathered about the area, and I knew you were there. As silently as a hawk, I drew my bow, and quickly shot the sentries, knowing that the orcs were asleep. And so Gwindor and I crept to the tree you were bound to, and taking Anglachel I cut through your bond as easily as a stone sinks in water.

Gwindor and I carried you a short distance off, and when we stopped, I laid you gently on the ground, as as carefully as I could, I began to cut your bonds. But, curse fate, my grip on the dark sword slipped, and your foot was pricked. With a great shout you rose, knocking me to the ground, and you grasped Anglachel, yanking it from my grasp.

My pleas were lost in your thunderous yell and in the heightening wind. Your eyes were a terrible sight to see, filed with rage and hate. I hoped that you would somehow recognize me, but it was not so. Before I could react, my own sword was plunged into my chest. My eyes instantly began to darken, and when the lightning flashed, the last image I saw was your face, horror creeping upon it as you realized what you had done. And then the darkness claimed me.

You need not worry for me, my brother. I am happy now, in the Halls of Mandos. I wish I could say to you now that you are forgiven, and that I know you did not mean to do that, but once more, you are not listening to the song.

Farewell, Túrin, my brother and best friend.

* * *

Well, that was quite sad to write. I love the character Beleg so much, and the relationship he has with Túrin.

Read and review, please!

-Silme


End file.
